After a two hour drive, we hit the Virginia Lakes turnoff on Highway 395, and this was where I got on the bike for the first time. The ride started with a 6 mile paved road that quickly climbed from 6800' to 9272'. Nothing like a good thin-air climb to get your legs and lungs in the mode that they shall remain for the next several days. These first few miles were smooth, and went quickly, as I ran through my checklists, plans, and routes in my head. The planning was done, now it's go time.
After reaching Lower Virginia Lake, the road turned into a smooth graded gravel road for only a 1/2 mile ride to the Upper Lake. A lake that years ago would have been photo worthy, but is now crowded and blemished by a parking lot full of Fords and the occasional Mini Van. I rode to the top, took a few seconds to think about what I was about to embark on, and got started. A short ride back down the now mirage covered pavement lead me to my first turn. A forestry road that would lead me back down to the valley floor before swinging back North and West, into the mountains again.
This road would cover about 15 miles of ground quickly, most of it being downhill, and well groomed. The valley was still, and aside from the occasional glimpse of the highway in the distance, I could have been anywhere. It was after a long stretch of downhill dirt when I first began smiling ear to ear. I knew I'd talk to myself at some points during this trip, as 4 days alone will do that to anyone, but it had started already. The joy was simple and earned already.
25 miles into the first day and the first real tests began. Tamarack Lake sits just South of The Twin Lakes, at an elevation of over 9800'. I planned to camp at over 9000' for the night, and then make the 2 mile hike to the secluded lake in the morning in hopes of catching my first Golden Trout. The road had begun to climb again, more and more quickly. The view over my shoulder grew grander with each burning pedal stroke as crawled forward with my forty pound bike. It was silent, with only the sounds of the chain burdened by the force, and the occasional "pop" from rocks shooting out from under the tires.The last three or four miles were too much. The road become strewn with rocks, and the dirt far too loose to ride, not to mention the grade at which it rose. I walked the road, stopping occasionally to rest and refresh. The maps showed the road turning in a direction I had no intention of going, so I continued up the hill along a less used route, unaware of where it might lead, only knowing it was going up, and that was constant.
After about 6 hours on the bike, I had covered about 40 miles and was at my loosely planned destination. The road ended, and turned into a small single track that lead through a patch of Pines. I set up camp near a well used and constructed fire ring, who's builders couldn't have been any less excited than myself. Without even sitting down, I got to the "chores". A ten minute walk to a creek, thats snowmelt rage could be heard from my campsite, for water. A few minutes spent gathering what fallen timber I could source. Another few minutes spent setting up the tent, and exerting my lungs for the last time that day as I blew up my air mattress.
After boiling some water on the open fire, and preparing dinner, I walked out of the trees to a small clearing on a knoll that served as a look-out on something incredible. The valley was just beginning to change colors, as the shadows grew longer, my own included. The last of the suns beams silhouetted the jagged mountain crests to my west.
I sat here for close to two hours watching the sun and sky direct nature's play before retiring to my sleeping bag for the night, eager for tomorrow to begin.
